Twenty Million Things
by RobotKat
Summary: Post-2003 series. Dr. Tenma is assigned a case worker as he prepares to move back into society. Struggling to come to terms with his inner demons, Tenma attempts to learn to trust humans, Astro, and himself again.
1. Ch1 - Dredging Up Silt

"Are you ready for this, Tenma?"

The doctor nodded quietly from his seat in the consultation room. Tawashi paced along the side of the room, arms folded behind his back, giving the occasional analytic glare. Both men wanted to be anywhere but that close to each other.

"The question is, are _we_ ready for this?" Tawashi strolled over to the table that Tenma was seated at, and slammed down one wide hand, holding his balance in a stoop over the doctor. "It's been four months and we still have no idea what you're capable of. I can't believe we're even letting you start rehab!"

"You are welcome to cancel it if you enjoy my company that much," Tenma said with a grin as smug as he could make it. Tawashi stepped back; he was disgusted, but understood.

A knock came at the door, and the stale, blasé mood returned to the room. The door opened with Chief Nakamura at the knob.

"Your rehabilitation officer's here," He said quickly. "This is Ms. Inoue."

A woman stepped into the room, clutching a maroon pleather satchel; Tawashi nodded in approval as he exited the room. Tenma assumed that Tawashi would be joining the riff-raff behind the two-way mirror to his left.

Tenma studied the young woman as she set up her belongings. He was still uncomfortable around humans; it was probably their unpredictability and unlimited range of flaws that caused him to feel this way. It was first nature for him to look at a person as if they were an android he had to modify. The woman before him certainly needed repairs – shaking hands, joints need to be tightened. Hips perhaps too wide. Iris replacement to get a more vivid shade of green. There were colourful stickers all over the satchel – a glittering star, Sailor Moon, a flower – and he wondered momentarily if they'd sent him a five-year-old girl.

The woman finished setting up her papers and hastily took a seat, her long hair falling over her shoulders as she shot down into her seat.

"I'm sorry about the wait! I didn't know if I had the substance prevention form…" She dug into her jacket pocket. "I'd like to introduce myself."

She slid an ID card onto the table, encouraging Tenma to examine it. "My name is Nanora Inoue, and I've been assigned to your psychiatric and societal rehabilitation."

"A rather unique name," Tenma remarked as he studied the card's credentials; he more wanted to hear his own voice and give the semblance of conversation.

"This meeting is just what my superiors call a "meet and greet", but that's a rather corny term, in my opinion. I guess this is more like…" Inoue seemed to laugh, accidentally letting her nervousness show. "…An interview, maybe?"

She was trying so hard. He couldn't hate her for that.

Tenma folded his hands together on the table. "So what do you want from me?"

"Just information on what you'd like to do during reintegration." Inoue retrieved a pen – purple with a little Team Omega charm – and one of the countless forms. "Do you want to move out of your current housing? Any career aspirations?"

"I'd like to keep my lofts, and resume commission robot production."

"Are you okay with being under external surveillance during the first twelve months of rehabilitation?"

"It's no different from this," Tenma said, gesturing to the two-way mirror. It took Inoue by surprise and she laughed, far more natural-sounding than her first. Tenma could have sworn he felt safe.

There weren't as many forms to be filled out as he had feared. Inoue seemed pleased to get to skip so many.

"Have any family members been previously arrested or detained?"

"No."

"Well, that leaves out forms 4 and 5…" She flipped through papers yet again. "Do you have any psychological conditions or traumas?"

He inhaled slowly. "…Post traumatic stress disorder. Obsessive compulsive disorder."

"Are you receiving any therapy for these?"

"I am, now that I'm here."

"I'm glad," Inoue said, still concluding her notes. "There are still a lot of institutions out there that don't give any treatment to maximum security detainees."

""Institution", "detainee"…" Tenma was tempted to chuckle. "You certainly are kind with your words."

"They were telling me to be ultra-careful in advance, you know…" The woman rested her chin in one hand. "They wouldn't stop telling me how you're a 'class one danger'."

"Oh?"

"They're using this range of numbers now. Like, with 1 being the most hazardous and unobtainable, and 5 being the least. Er…you know the smuggler and gang leader, Skunk Kusai?"

"I know _of_ him."

"He's only a class three."

Tenma inhaled, and exhaled. "At least they gave me the honour of such a high rank."

"I want to give you a chance, though." Inoue placed her hands together on the tabletop, one hand on top of the other. "I've been shown your work, and you're an extraordinary designer and craftsman!"

"There's no need for flattery, officer." But his ego certainly enjoyed it.

"I still remember when my class took a tour of the Ministry of Science, some time ago…!" She was happy now, and it was cathartic to see. "I think you were in control then? I loved that Robita model you made. My family had one and we named her Abuelita. She's still working, too, even after she rolled down the driveway."

"Oh?"

"It's a long story."

"Well, I did design the Robitas to be as durable as possible, even despite…whatever that was." He wasn't insulted, though. Rather, particularly proud. Meanwhile, woman seemed thrilled to have a functioning conversation with him.

She jotted something down. Tenma noticed only then that the woman had wine red-painted fingernails. A beautiful colour, but to him, it almost clashed with the colourful stickers on her satchel.

Inoue slid the sea of forms back into her satchel. "I don't have much I need from you at this point, doctor. I don't know how much time they'll give me, but we can talk about anything you want."

"I'm just not sure if I'm comfortable yet," Tenma said, his voice coming out softer than he would have liked. It was his "audience" that was bothering him. The idea of talking to a benign being – human or otherwise – was a temptation that he didn't want to pass up. But if he rushed too hard into the opportunity, he could lose the contact with this person for good.

"That's perfectly fine!" Inoue reached out to retrieve her ID card from the centre of the table, but the sudden snap of lights from the two way mirror froze her hand in mid-movement. Tawashi, Nakamura and at least five officers with recording equipment were now fully visible on the other side.

"That should be enough," Nakamura called out, clapping his hands together once. "Proceed with escorting and re-detaining."

Tenma let himself groan in disgust. He felt large and burdening, and his own presence seemed to take up half the table. He didn't watch as two female police officers entered and just about pulled Inoue out of the room.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Inoue struggle to see over an officer's shoulder. "I'll see you next Wednesday!"

"Please do not prolong contact after th…" They were already out of the room. Four guards entered for him now, a pair of neoray handcuffs and stun guns in tow. He allowed himself to be cuffed, and went with them with no words or resistance, as usual.

It was routine by this point. They considered him a "class one", after all.


	2. Ch2 - Life Forces

Inoue returned for another meeting a few days later.

Tenma was relieved to find that this would take place in one of the meeting rooms, rather than an interrogation room. Sure, surveillance would still be heavy, but he preferred that to feeling as if he were at gunpoint.

He had been loaded into the meeting room, a small-sized but manageable room, with a couch, TV stand, and two stuffed chairs circling a long coffee table. The TV was idly playing a morning talk show. If not for the two cameras in the ceiling, it would have just looked like a washed-out employee lounge. The weak fluorescent lights were on, despite the wide, quadruple-layered, bullet-proof, shatter-proof, tamper-proof plexiglass window letting in a substantial amount of light.

She arrived perfectly on time, once again with the sticker-lined satchel. She seemed less rushed than the first meeting; he somehow noticed her collarbones right away, and admired their distinct, symmetrical construction and design.

Tenma stopped, massaging his temples. Dear lord, this was going to take a while.

Inoue approached the couches, exclaiming, "Doctor! It's good to see you again!"

"You too." Did he really mean it, Tenma wondered. He was now more concerned by how cramped he felt in a prison jumpsuit. "How are you today?"

"Pretty good, I've just got a-" Nanora tried to drop into a seated position on the adjacent couch, but sunk in farther than she expected, flailing for stability. Her first priority upon freedom from the depths of the couch was to repair her hair. "...A...A lot of paperwork to do later."

Tenma folded his hands together, resting his chin in them, both trying to get comfortable and hide the start of a smirk. "What've they got you here for today?"

"I'll be talking to you about 'social reintegration', like, just ensuring you'll be emotionally and psychologically prepared to start living in Metro City again."

"They're putting me back out...?"

"It depends on how well you'll be in some months. You'll probably be under house arrest for a while, too. Like I said, it depends."

"They're not telling you anything, are they?"

Inoue rolled her eyes. "The police are absolutely afraid of you."

"And yet, they gladly send in a lone 23-year-old-girl for them."

"25. But still, they consider you a walking nightmare."

Tenma sat back, disgusted, trying to keep in mind that it was the police's opinion, not Inoue's. He remarked, "And what've they got Lamp up to right now? The man who abused who abused his position, and among other things, instigated a-"

"Doctor, let's focus on you and your-"

"No, I think this relates to me." Casually, Tenma turned to the bulb-like camera in the ceiling to his right. "I'd like all of you to stop handling me like I'm a walking bomb."

"Doctor!" Inoue bolted to her feet.

He did the same, looming over her. "Inoue?!"

"Doctor, you've still broken numerous laws!"

"I was working for the best for my son!"

Inoue inhaled, her stare back at him piercing. "Doctor, your son is deceased."

Tenma froze, studying her. She had to be going somewhere with this.

"Hurting people and defying international laws isn't going to honour your son at all! Loss can be difficult to handle, but-"

He shot back, "Tell me what you know about loss!"

Inoue set her hands on Tenma's shoulders, slowly pushing him back down to the couch. He complied; cooperating with her would look good on the security footage. She sat down neatly on her couch when she was sure Tenma would remain seated.

Her hands folded together primly, resting on her knees. Her eyes piercing his, Inoue said, "My grandmother died when I was seven."

Tenma nodded firmly; a cue for her to continue.

"She raised my mother alone, and she helped out a lot with both sides of my family. We called her "abuelita", since she and my mother were from Spain, and..." Inoue paused, trying to focus. "...I'm sorry, I'm just remembering a lot all of a sudden. A week after she died, we got an enormous crate in the mail. My father got the crate open, and we found a red Robita model robot inside. Red was abuelita's favourite colour.

"It came pre-charged, and when we started it up, it introduced itself as Pressing Number ZX-872, nicknamed Abuelita. It turned out that abuelita had ordered this robot shortly before she died, and had arranged for it to be sent to us. She'd customized it almost entirely by herself. It was like having her back...but not quite. Abuelita acted like a usual Robita robot, but she already knew our names and preferences. Everybody came to love Abuelita but my mother. She refused to be in the same room as her. She even started working more hours so she wouldn't have to see it. She told my siblings and I, "That thing's trying to be my mother! It's a metal corpse!""

Tenma nodded. "What came of that?"

Inoue looked to the floor, the gentlest smile appearing on her face. "My sisters went out to Hong Kong for a vacation, and my father and brother were out all day trying to compare aerobike prices. Mom was stuck at home with a fever, leaving her with Abuelita. And Abuelita took care of her the whole time, and played some singer's version of "A La Puerta Del Cielo." It took her four months to finally get that my grandmother meant Abuelita as a gift, not a replacement...and another two to come to really enjoy her company."

"Mm." Tenma contemplated this for a moment. "I see we come from similar situations."

"And both of them need to end with acceptance." Inoue was regaining her boldness now. The room was quiet once again.

"Well, Inoue," he said. "Should we start my 'reintegration', on that note?"

"Oh!" Inoue sat up. "Please, call me by my first name — Nanora! I'd like you to feel comfortable around me."

"Nanora, then." Tenma sat forward. "Let's begin."

She laughed. "Please, I don't even know what part I should start with! Here, I'll grab something..."

As Nanora dug through her satchel, Tenma started to feel uneasy once again. Studying her face, he said, "I'm...quite sorry about losing my patience earlier."

"It's okay..." She pulled out one of maybe a dozen beige sheets. "I know you'll become more comfortable in the coming weeks. I just need to help ease you into this. Here's a bit of a test thing about future goals."

She pulled out a purple ink pen. "What would you hope to do if you were to move back into your old house-slash-apartment-slash-housing complex?"

"Construct an enormous robotic soldier," he said, perfectly straight-faced. Nanora gave him a look like he'd just laughed at a funeral. "All right, all right, that was out of line. I'd like to clean everything up and maybe redecorate."

Nanora nodded, writing in the latter response. "You're lucky you've got _me_ as your case worker, of all people...!"


	3. Ch3 - Losing My Faith

Maybe two nights later, Tenma had the worst dream he'd had in weeks.

His dreams for the longest time could barely be called such; all he'd gotten were surreal, altered replays of every incident at Robotania, or the night at sector seven in the Ministry. At worst, his sleep had been dreamless and restless. He would have preferred the latter.

The dream threw Tenma into the initially normal situation of driving home. His aerocar was the one he'd used for business long ago. He wore a neat, freshly-pressed, business suit, exactly the kind he used to wear as Minister of Science. His house was quickly becoming visible from up the road, still in perfect standing condition. The radio softly played, of all things, "Islands" by Kajagoogoo. It had been one of his ex-wife's favourite songs. Tenma would have gladly flicked the radio off, preferring silence to memories, feeling chalky and bitter as they seemed to pull themselves out of the back of his throat. Something kept him still in his seat, urging him to get to the house.

The front gates parted, and the black aerocar cruised inside, parking neatly along the front steps. Tenma got out and walked quickly up to the doors, unlocking them like he always would have, and walked into the prim and freshly-cleaned front hall. This was nothing like the living room, which remained unlit, in the same state of decay as when he'd destroyed the room and abandoned the house.

Glass clinked from the room, and Tenma gingerly stepped inside. Crouched by sofa was Tobio, pyjama-clad, gently sweeping up the pieces of a picture frame's glass with a small piece of wood. The boy seemed to hear his father's steps onto the carpet, and looked up, sleepy but content.

"T...Tobio...?" Tenma carefully put his hands out before him, preparing to attempt to embrace him. "Are you all right...?!"

"Yeah, just cleaning." Tobio stood up, his hands gripping at the edge of a dusty cloth that covered the sofa. "Whoosh!"

He flipped the sheet up over his head, like he was trying to straighten it out, but let it go as it hit the air. The sheet gently fell over him, hiding the laughing boy.

The sheet fell on the ground, laying flat. 

* * *

Tenma sat later that day at a sewing machine in the jail's volunteer laundry department, carefully fixing the inseam in a pair of cotton uniform pants. Officer Youmi, an old Ainu woman with the strength of a linebacker, monitored him and a security camera. He could feel her staring at him.

"You all right there, Tenma?" She asked, the volume of her voice jarring him out of his thoughts. Tenma had come to trust her, though, and he let it pass.

"I didn't sleep well," he simply said, glad his jolt hadn't ruined the seam. "Almost done this one."

Youmi gave a stern, understanding nod. "I see, I see. You look like you got dragged under a truck."

Tenma closed the stitch, removed the cotton pants, and folded them neatly beside him. "It certainly feels like that. Anything else you need fixed?"

"Only a washing load that needs to b-" Youmi halted as a ripped sock was flung into the room, hitting the side of her desk. "Dammit, Kusai!"

Standing in the ticket window was Skunk Kusai, writing a laundry load claim ticket. He ripped it off the pad and stood there, grinning, with two equally goony looking men soon joining him.

"I caught the ankle a' that on the side of one of the cafeteria benches," he explained. "Do I get another one, or does Captain Crunch there get to personally fix it up?"

"You can wear a sandwich bag on your foot for all I care," Youmi spat back, now standing and nudging the sock away from her desk with the toe of her boot.

"Can you do my initials?" Skunk shouted in Tenma's direction. The fat, long-haired man beside him started chortling. "A tasteful, cursive S.K., maybe in lime green."

Tenma turned to the ticket window, reminding himself to stay calm. "Mock me all you want, but I'm not the one who got arrested four times in one year."

Skunk laughed; he had a squawky laugh not unlike the call of an irritated squirrel. "Hey, it ain't so bad! Nooj here's earnin' high school credits, Kuma might have a shot with one of the cafeteria workers, and I get a real meal."

"Sock size?" Youmi shouted, putting the sock into the Out Disposal crate, the sock suspended on the end of her pencil.

"I dunno, medium-large?"

"Nah, man, you've got little baby feet," added a tall, African-American man with tacky bleached hair behind Skunk. "You know what they say about men with tiny-ass feet."

Tenma massaged his temples with a sigh, hoping to wish himself out of the room. Youmi sat back at her desk, drawling, "You'll have a replacement in twenty minutes. If you are in your cell at that time, it'll be delivered to your cell."

"I can't have it now?"

"I like keeping you on your toes, Kusai."

"Thanks, I guess." He turned to Tenma. "Hey, Dr. Temba, right? You doin' okay in this joint? You're a bit of a legend down in medium security."

"Oh, _am_ I," Tenma said with forced interest, sewing again.

"Yeah. Word is, you got your own TV, your own eating space, and even your own gossip buddy."

"...You mean a rehabilitation worker?"

"Is it a 34-year-old Moroccan lady?" Called out the tall man, presumably named Kuma. "We're betting on which staff member's your worker."

Tenma paused, and said, "It's a middle-aged Taiwanese man."

Kuma cursed loudly and left the ticket window. Skunk started howling with laughter, slapping his hand on the counter.

"Go away, Kusai, would you?"

"Whaaat, can't a couple of master criminals have a chat?"

Tenma turned to focus on the young man, tired blue eyes sharpening like darts. "I am not a criminal."

"So you just dropped by for the snazzy jumpsuits and the prison spaghetti?" Skunk was winning this, regrettably. "No wonder they keep you up on the top floor. That little tin toy you made put a _lot_ of us in here. You'd be in one real mess if you ever went into t-"

"_That toy is my __**son**__!_" Tenma screeched, leaving his seat and reaching the ticket window in record time. Skunk leaped back in shock, and his short friend hit the floor and crab-walked rapidly up the hall in an effort to get away. "_And don't talk to me again!_"

Tenma sunk back into the room, falling into an office hair beside a stack of freshly-cleaned jumpsuits. Youmi regarded him solemnly.

"I''ll call your staff over to take you back up," she said, stern but soothing. "Sorry, Umataro, but I have to file an incident report."

Tenma forced a nod, hunched over, barricading his face behind his hands. 

* * *

Tenma's prison psychologist had given him a speech about the difference between healthy and unhealthy anger release. When Tenma pointed out that Skunk had instigated it, his doctor had only told him to "strive to take the high road."

"He's not the mentally ill one," Tenma had insisted.

"Exactly, he's the one who should know better."

Tenma sputtered, "What-?"

"I mean, in handling you."

"I am not I am not something to be 'handled'."

The psychologist seemed to know how deep they'd dug their own grave. "Would you like to go back to your cell?"

"I'd like to request my case worker, as well."

Tenma was being forced back up to his cell less than a minute later, one guard leading him on each arm. He was used to the maximum security sector by now; it was a tower of twenty floors of thick, steel-lined jail cells, circling a fireproof column of tamper-proof glass that doubled as two-way security vidcoms. Tenma could feel the stares coming from the tiny slots in the doors of other cells – not ones of hatred, rather, mere curiosity that something was happening out in the normally morgue-silent hall.

The familiar soft pat of velvet shoes on cement echoed up the corridor. Tenma didn't turn, knowing one sudden move would panic his guards. He wasn't in the mood for a cautionary electric shock at that moment.

"I'm here," Nanora called out, reaching them. "Was there something you needed?"

"I'd like an unbiased listener." Tenma continued to stare forward. "My apologies for forcing you up here."

"Oh, it's all right! I was stuck in a meeting until you called."

They reached his cell now. The guard on his left hammered an 8-digit code into the door, and as the other one loaded him into the room, the one at the door told Nanora, "Take this. You ever handled one before?"

"I have." Hard plastic gently met a hand. Tenma stifled a groan; a pocket emergency stun. Ten modes on a dial at the push of a button, with strengths ranging from "back massager" to "involuntary bladder emptier". He'd experienced nearly all of them at least once since his arrest.

Nanora finally entered, the cell door shutting behind her with a dead thud. The guards were clearly still out there, waiting. Tenma sat down at his small desk, watching the young woman examine the black teardrop-shaped remote in her hand.

"I don't think I'll have to use this..." She set it into her satchel. "...I know you called me here without ulterior motives."

Tenma nodded, adding, "Thank you."

Nanora leaned against the wall beside the desk. "I've been informed of everything that happened, and my priority now is just making sure you haven't 'regressed', to use the prison psychologist term."

"Clearly the prison psychologists know what they're doing," He sneered, not looking at her. It wasn't this woman's fault.

"I know, but are you okay?" She slid to the side of the desk, sitting on the edge to look down at him. "I don't often get summoned by a client."

"Why not? You're a fantastic listener."

"It's a job requirement." Nanora seemed more comfortable. "And you're very interesting to listen to. I'm getting a lot of praise from my bosses for managing to get through to you! They were 'highly doubtful' or something."

"Do I really come off as that ironclad?" Tenma felt flattery more than anything else.

"Yeah, they think it's like..." Nanora paused, trying to form a thought. "Do...do you know_ Silence of the Lambs_? It's a lot like that, with Hannibal and Clarice, as they're comparing th-"

"Please do _not_ compare me to a cannibal."

"I'm sorry."

Tenma looked up at the woman, analyzing her face. Emoticap v.12.05, 78% + 20% + 2%. She meant well. As clunky as her performance could be, it certainly beat being thrown around or outright neglected by the humans in this facility. It also helped that she would be his key to getting released.

"You're thinking about something," Nanora said, a combination of a statement and a question.

"I keep seeing you as a robot on instinct."

"Instinct?" Her head tilted gently. "Do you think there's anything behind that?"

"I can tell you offhand that I trust robots more than humans."

"Are you saying you want to imagine I'm a robot, because you don't trust humans anymore?"

Tenma froze, a little stunned. Nanora was far too amused by this than he would have liked, even though it answered one of his questions.

Nanora got off the desk edge. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

"I don't want to keep you here against your will."

"No, not at all!" Nanora waved her hands. "This is saving me from that meeting. We were discussing who'd have to work with this chronic shoplifter. Amphetamines may have also been a factor in her behaviour. She's like 22, and she wouldn't stop drooling on the tabletop. Missing teeth, or something. I was about to puke until an intern told me you needed me."

Apprehensive, Tenma replied, "Well, my dear Inoue, you certainly spare no details when you speak."

"I'm sorry." Nanora shrunk away just the slightest. "I shouldn't be so casual on duty, I suppose."

The awkward mood in the cell was almost palpable.

Tenma stood up with a sigh, tucking his hands into his jumpsuit pockets. He strolled up to Nanora, looking down at her apologetically. The two locked eyes; he seemed to tower over her as she stood before him, unafraid, her hands on the handle of her satchel. Nanora quickly looked to the floor and back up, a flustered smile appearing on her face.

"I forgot what I was going to say," Tenma sputtered.

The two broke out laughing, relief returning to the room. It was practically liberating. He set a hand on her forearm. "Well, I'd offer you a cup of tea, but I'm not even allowed to have glass in here."

"There's _one_ thing you can have..." Nanora dug into her satchel, pulling out a round, pearl white egg, with a single button on its side. Tenma stared at it uncomfortably.

"...Is that woman's personal hygiene device?"

"No! _No_, it's a calling device." Nanora strolled over to the desk, rushing away from Tenma like he were naked, and set the white egg down. "With this, you can contact me anytime I'm not in the building! I turn my receivers off at 10PM, though."

She pressed the top button, and a small holographic menu popped up from the top; it offered two preloaded numbers and a few functions. "The top one is my work number, the second is my home number. You can add more numbers if necessary."

Tenma admired the holographic screen, pressing the function button and finding himself impressed by its quick display time. "I'm honoured. Thank you, Nanora."

"It's no problem!" That rosy colour flooded her face again. "I'd like you to have an easy way to talk to me. I had to keep changing its frame and mechanics until the warden's staff declared it 'safe', sure, but it'll be worth it."

Tenma was intrigued. He stepped back towards her, asking, "You fancy yourself an engineer?"

"Not really, but I do like model kits." They were face to face, and Nanora's eyes batted on reflex.

"That's a shame." Tenma cocked an eyebrow. "It's quite a turn-on when a woman loves robotics like I do."

"Time's up," one of the guards shouted, bursting into the room. Either one went to Nanora's side like bodyguards, protectively escorting her out of the room. Nanora only waved back at Tenma over the shoulder of the tall woman behind her, her eyes almost sparkling. The same guard shouted back into the cell, "You will be retrieved for dinner in an hour."

Tenma nodded, watching the door close behind them. He sat down at the little desk, resting his chin in his clasped hands. He could use a glass of Bodegas Roda Cirsion about now. Tenma looked at the little shining egg Nanora had given him – gently placed beside the two photos he'd been allowed in jail. He didn't want to look at them at that moment, or he knew he'd break down again. It was the photos of Tobio...er, of Tobio and Astro that he'd had in his vest the night he'd almost killed himself in sector seven. A letter from Ochanomizu had recommended Tenma be allowed to keep them for his health.

Guilt slowly set into him as he heard the elevator slowly cascade down the tower outside his cell – Nanora had to be in there. Could he really manipulate a young woman like her? She seemed so hopeful for him, and perhaps it _was_ a bad idea to rush his release. Tenma felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff; he could turn back and let Nanora and the prison's plans happen, or jump back down into manipulation and deceit. At the point he was at in the plan, there was still time to stop.

He ran his finger along the frame of the egg. Maybe he'd call her later. Maybe. 

* * *

"You know," said Officer Cee in the elevator. "This is a prison, not a dating service."

"I _know_..." Nanora sighed. "I didn't apply for the Tenma case for _that_, Brenda. If going along with him makes him open up more, it's a win-win situation."

Officer Pavel chortled, tapping his fingers on the wall of the elevator. "How's getting drooled on by a nutjob tyrant win-win?"

"He gets more comfortable with people," Nanora counted on one hand, and then the other. "And I get to be known for successfully rehabilitating a high-risk inmate."

"Ahh," Cee and Pavel said in unison, the latter guard nodding. Nanora shrugged just the slightest, feeling increasingly exhausted. Cee added, "Give us all the details. The rest of us are dying to see what this guy is like."

Pavel's eyes widened, exclaiming, "I heard made himself into a part cyborg." Pavel pointed at his own eyes. "Like he's got eye lasers...all the same powers Astro Boy has!"

"Pre-medication, he was _planning_ to be remade as an immortal robot clone," Nanora recited from memory, swiping her hair back over her shoulder. "And come on, Ahmid! Astro's got eye _lights_, not lasers."

As soon as the elevator opened on the main floor, Nanora rushed out of the shaft and towards her office. She locked her door and sunk into her chair, clicking through her schedule. A meeting with her supervisors about Tenma's call. An introduction to a possible new case..._ugh, I have to get that whiny bank robber guy? _Dinner with Kathy and Merry...she'd never hear the end of Tenma rumours. Nanora sighed, debating the repercussions of taking a nap in her office. That check-up on Tenma had taken a lot out of her.

_His ego is certainly coming back full force,_ she thought, her face flushing pink again. _I must be doing something right._


	4. Ch4 - The Young and the Younger

Eight Years Prior

* * *

Nanora Inoue rushed out of her final class of the day, throwing her backpack over her shoulder as she rushed out to the closest exit. Her digital recorder and notebooks were staring to stab into her back, and she couldn't wait to get out to Kathy's car.

Merry Kokonsari caught up with her, rushing out of her history class across the hallway. She pulled her own audio recorder out of her backpack, asking, "Are you hype too?"

"I just wish I didn't get the hardest guy," Nanora sighed, but she still couldn't wait. She, Kathy, and Merry had snagged what Kathy called "the scoop of the century" - thirty minutes of access for interviews at the Ministry of Science for the school newspaper. The three had a current events assignment, and the girls were equally nervous. Nanora just regretted thinking she could interview the Minister of Science himself.

Kathy Horowitz had a fifth period spare, and she was parked right outside the school, waving a box of donuts she'd just picked up. Merry's long legs carried her up to the car while Nanora flailed under her huge backpack, shrieking.

Through a donut, Merry yelled out, "Don't wear so much denim! It adds weight!"

The three were soon enough on their way to the Ministry, running over their plan of attack. Merry was to meet Dr. Lalinde in her office to ask about female-oriented robotics. Kathy's was planned to be the most difficult, meeting Dr. Shimoto in the lobby, asking about the fate of robotic A.I. and getting a tour through the basic automaton lab. Nanora had to meet with Minister Tenma and ask about the institute's progress in making a humanoid robot.

"Hungry-wanna-donut?" Merry said, holding out the box to Nanora in the back seat. The girl shook her head in a flurry of black and blue moptop hair.

"I think I'm gonna pass out," Nanora whined, looking at the email from Minister Tenma on her phone. "I wasn't this nervous even when I got pulled into the office for that fight."

"C'mon, it can't be so bad!" Kathy said from the front seat. "Lalinde's the one who invited us in the first place."

"You're not the one who has to talk to a government official," Nanora whined again while Merry went in for a third donut.

"Well," Kathy said, parking beside the Ministry. "You're the one who looked at my pictures of all three scientists and said, "Oh, hey, I'll take the hot one.""

Nanora's face felt like it was on fire. "I-I didn't know he was the Minister!"

They had maybe two minutes to spare. Grabbing their note-taking equipment, the three hurried out of the car and to the building, Nanora finally free from her huge backpack. "Remember," Kathy called out as she led them in, "Split up and get right to the point with 'em!"

Nanora got inside and kept running until she reached the elevator. _Office 1012. Office 1012_, she thought, hammering the tenth floor button. _Office 1012. 1012. Ten tweeeelve._ The elevator felt like it couldn't possibly be slower unless it had been designed to.

A shining yellow service robot greeted her right as the elevator opened on the tenth floor, nearly giving her a heart attack. "I-den-ti-fy-ing," it squawked. "Are-you-the-Na-no-ra-Ee-noo-eh?"

She bowed on first instinct, though she soon felt stupid for it. "Y-Yes, but pronounced ee-_noh_-eh."

"Right-this-way-Miss-Ee-noo-eh," the robot chimed, turning sharply up the hall. Nanora sighed in annoyance and rushed after it. She regretted eating even one donut; her mouth felt chalky, and the a major stitch on her side didn't help.

Room 1012 wasn't far down the hall. Upon reaching it, the service robot nodded at her and scooted back up the hall. Nanora stopped long enough to steady her breathing, pulling a comb out – one that looked like a switchblade when closed – and smoothed out her short raven hair into something more presentable. As she did, she studied the doors to Minister Tenma's office. Two tall sliding doors, maybe thrice her size, with a pearlescent plate outside the room; 1012, Minister of Science, Umataro Tenma. That plate alone had to have cost more than her whole outfit.

Nanora approached a little buzzer on the door, ready to press it, but the office doors slid open and she almost toppled over.

_That cretin probably knew what I was doing out here, _she thought, grimacing.

Nanora approached the door, apprehensive, and studied the office from the doorway. The office was a semicircle shaped room, with one large glass window for the outer wall, featuring a gorgeous view of the surrounding city skyline. A large, glossy oak desk sat in the centre with a deep brown finish. A flatscreen vidcom was on the other wall, lined in more pearlescent trim. A selection of potted flowers hung from the ceiling before the glass wall, and gorgeous Renaissance art prints hung along the walls. Nanora stopped, fondly admiring the print of Leonardo Da Vinci's_ St. John the Baptist_.

A figure approached her from the other end of the room, his pristine lab coat flowing as he strolled towards her. "You fancy yourself an art historian?"

"Not really, but..." Nanora locked eyes with St. John, her free hand hitting the record button on her player. "I know the story behind this one. Da Vinci used his lover Salai as the model. He was a huge troublemaker for Da Vinci throughout their relationship."

"Ah. You've dressed like a punk, but you're quite intelligent." He held out one strong hand. "Minister Umataro Tenma. My pleasure."

Nanora carefully put her hand with Tenma's and shook once, sternly and business-like. She bowed a bit as she did so; she felt like a cherubic Cupid had flown down from the heavens, stabbed a heart-shaped arrowhead into her ribcage, and suplexed her into a pit of fluffy clouds. She withdrew her hand quickly before it got accustomed to where it was.

Tenma nodded at her, smirking, and turned to his desk. "Right this way. Let's get onto that interview."

Nanora practically skated on air to the seat before his desk, pulling forth her notebook. As she set down her recorder, Tenma remained standing, pushing aside a few stacks of paper and a giant book called _Emotive Capabilities in Robotics from 1984-2024_; the title alone made her head spin. He put a bookmark in the book, asking, "Care for a cigarette? Whiskey?"

"Sir, I'm seventeen."

"Duly noted." He took a seat, folding his hands neatly on the desktop.

Nanora glanced up from her notes. "So, doctor, there's been a lot of buzz about the Ministry's plan to create a humanoid robot with near-perfect AI."

"It's been a long-time goal of mine," Tenma said proudly. "I've long been interested in seeing just how human a robot could become."

"How so?"

"I don't believe robots were created only to be servants. One can argue that they've been enslaved today. I _do_ believe that they're part of a developing frontier of existence, one that could make humans change what they perceive about what it makes to be a 'person'."

Nanora wrote furiously. "How are you planning to develop robot, uh, intelligence?"

"Perseverance, my dear." He sat back, smug. "Robots are currently limited to a selection of pre-installed speech and vocabulary patterns, and the Cappler Learning Capability, but during my lifetime, I need to see a robot that can form its own opinions right out of the activation capsule. I've been currently working with humanoid simulation programs, having interns hold conversations with them in an attempt to build the simulation's accept-and-respond processor."

"You definitely sound like you know what you're doing," she said, barely containing a swoon. If only everything he'd just said made sense.

Tenma only chuckled warmly. "That's what years of dedication will do. The way I feel about it, I won't let myself go to the grave until I make a robot with the power to act and feel like a human."

"I envy your determination..." Nanora looked down, flustered. _Dammit, dammit, keep focus!_ She looked back up, trying to regain composure. "What can young people do to p-push forward the robot race?"

"Well..." Tenma stood up, pacing casually. "Support and read into the art of robotics. To those out there considering becoming roboticists, they have my support!"

Nanora jolted back when a hand passed by her face, grabbing the recorder and stopping it. The girl sat stunned as he examined it, making sure it had saved everything, and then tossed it back into her lap. Tenma gave her a cold glare of pure scorn, strolling away from her to the window wall.

"B..." She picked up the recorder like it had just been on fire. "...But I'm not done!"

"I do believe that interview will be sufficient," he said, his back to her, arms folded behind his back.

Nanora shoved the recorder into her jean jacket pocket, hitting the REC button, scrambling to her feet. She sputtered back, "Th-that's not really enough for me to get a-"

"Lalinde may not be, but I'm familiar with your kind, young lady..." He whirled around, pacing towards her, staring down his nose at her. "Writing mewling poems about saving the Nunavut seals in your diaries. Holding free-trade rallies in your cafeteria. Coming up with stories about how robots are going to destroy the environment with your hippie friends, smoking pot around a campfire and singing Kumbaya, am I right?"

"Not in the slightest," she hissed, feet planted into the ground.

Tenma now loomed over her. "Do you know how many calls and visitors I get a day from people desperate to incriminate me? Last month, they thought I was illegally disposing uranium. Last week, they thought I was intentionally wasting power. This week, they think I'm trying to replace hu-"

"You honestly think I came here because I wanted to?"

"You're practically batting your eyes every time I move," Tenma said with disgust. "You're not the first sycophant I've put up with."

"You smell like booze."

"And you're in over your head, young lady. Leave my office and take that interview with you."

She clenched her fists. "I refuse to move from this spot!"

Tenma studied her once again, looking her up and down; the girl had practically bolted herself to that spot on the carpet. He stepped back to his desk, reaching under the desktop, aiming for something, then looked up at her with a grin.

"Which would you like?" He asked, eyes alive now. "You leave the office, or I press this nice little button and have you dragged out?"

Nanora exhaled, defeated, and turned away from him towards the door while the doctor stared at her the whole time. The walk to the door felt ten times longer than it had been when she entered, and like a huge spotlight was hanging over her. As she grabbed the door handle, Tenma cleared his throat, causing her to jolt.

"Give my regards to your teachers," he said, oddly chipper.

She shoved open the door. "Yeah, and give _my_ regards to Jack Daniels."

* * *

She wound up getting a higher grade for the "candid interview" than for the first one.

* * *

Nanora poked at her peanut satay with a fork, every exhale feeling like a sigh. Merry was telling a story about one of the kids in her gymnastics class, with Kathy laughing, but Nanora just couldn't focus.

Kathy brushed at her shoulder, asking, "You all right there, Nano?"

"H-Huh?" Nanora sat up with a shock. "Oh, I'm okay."

"How's it going with the doctor, by the way?" Merry put her chin in her hands, already sensing a juicy story. "I've been dying to hear about it."

Nanora seemed to wilt. "It's a...it's a thing all right. He's at least less of a pain than when I interviewed him in 12th grade."

Kathy smirked. "Is he still a massive boozer?"

"Is it true he made a gun out of a bedspring and a spork?" Merry asked. "I heard the kids in my class talking about it."

"No, not at all!" Nanora groaned. "Prison beds don't even have springs."

A waitress came to their table, collecting their plates. She glanced at Nanora, asking, "Oh, do you want that wrapped up? Or are you done?"

"N-no, I'm still working on it," she said hurriedly, stuffing a forkful into her mouth. The waitress nodded, making a plate pile.

"Can we have the dessert and the wine menus?" Kathy asked, holding up one finger. The waitress said something, eliciting a laugh from Kathy. Nanora regretted digging into a cold spot of her satay.

"You're not even being subtle," complained Merry.

"Subtlety doesn't matter when you're about to get a date," Kathy said, sitting back proudly. Merry just rolled her eyes and leaned in towards Nanora.

She whispered, "Flaunting it, wouldn't you say?"

Nanora didn't look up. Both women begun to realize that something was really, really bothering the normally-chipper Nanora. Not noticing the two pairs of eyes on her, Nanora took another bite of lukewarm satay.

"Is the waitress here yet? I want her to toss this..." She let go of her fork, letting it fall limply onto a pile of noodles with a gentle _plorp_.

"You don't look so good," Kathy said, nervous.

Nanora glanced up. "I'm just wrapped up with work. Nothing serious."

"Oh. Okay, I almost thought it w-"

"Tenma's hitting on me," Nanora whined, sinking into her seat in defeat. "And I know it's just to trick me into doing something stupid like letting him out early or giving him tools!"

Merry started to reach out for Nanora's shoulder, asking, "How...sure are you?"

"Because it's working," she said, putting her face into her hands in frustration. "And he sure doesn't remember me!"

"A-and you're not reporting him?" Kathy choked on her drink. "He's gotta be like 60."

"Forty-eight," Nanora groaned from behind her hands. "It's like getting Valentines from Walter White."

"Can't you get someone else to take your place?"

Nanora sat up suddenly. "That's the thing! There _isn't_ someone else. I was the only one who was interested in working on it, and only because I need a big rehab case, and...and, I pitied him."

The table was silent; Nanora out of embarrassment, and the other two out of dismay and worry. Merry clenched her fists, struggling to come up with something uplifting to say, but Kathy's favourite waitress returned with menus.

"Here you are, ladies!" She said happily. She turned to Kathy, asking, "Is there anything you'd like right now?"

"Some dessert recommendations..." Kathy folded her hands together smoothly. "You look like you know a lot about sweetness."

The waitress laughed – an honest one, luckily – and the two started chatting again as Merry shuffled closer to the wilted Nanora. She gave her a quick poke on the shoulder, eliciting Nanora's glance.

"If you wanna know what I think," Merry whispered enthusiastically, "I think you shouldn't give up just yet. You've been training all these years! And if the doctor starts giving you trouble, I'll drop by and give him a good-old-fashioned swan kick in the face!"

She snapped her dark brown fingers at that last bit. Nanora felt a little more confidence flood into her, and she sat up, exhaling.

"Thank you," Nanora said, a smile returning. "I'm going to keep working with him until I'm truly done."


End file.
